Fool Me Once
by iwasbotwp
Summary: For 20 years, Draco Malfoy has been wishing the war turned out differently, but at least he could work to do some good to make up for the evil he helped wrought. For nearly the same amount of time, he's been in love with a woman he couldn't have. He was fairly certain by now there wasn't anything he could do about that, but he hadn't given up all hope yet.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Written for the 20 Years Later Fest hosted by the Facebook group Dramione Fanfiction Forum.**

**I had an idea for this story, and so I started kicking the proverbial rock down the road. My fabulous alpha, 89JadedPictures, helped me keep the rock on a fairly straight and narrow path. When she saw the rock getting precariously close to tumbling into a ditch, she pulled me back. My equally fabulous beta, HeartOfAspen, picked up the jagged, ugly rock, and threw it into a tumbler until it was smooth and shiny. Thank you to both of them!**

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**Prologue - Present Day**

Draco Malfoy stared around the Great Hall at Hogwarts with carefully hidden revulsion. From the outside, looking in, the room was filled with life and beauty. Draco looked through the thin veneer, seeing only death and ugliness. Most of his pureblood peers felt that as long as a witch were to drape herself in enough emeralds set into Goblin-forged metal, or if the silk in a wizard's waistcoat came from Acromantulas, rather than common spiders, then the world was exactly as it should be. He had long ago divested himself of such absurd notions. The world would never be right again.

As he watched witches pose for the photographers mingling about, working to commemorate the occasion, he wondered, possibly for the five hundredth time, how these people could bring themselves to celebrate the darkness the world had fallen into? Was there anyone left in Wizarding England with a semblance of a conscience besides him? Did all of these people around him in their glittering dresses and finely woven robes really think the death of Harry Potter was the best thing to happen to the Wizarding World?

After twenty years, the stories of Harry Potter's defeat were now more legend than fact. After all, history is written by the victors. And brainwashing never went out of style.

He suspected there might be a handful, like him, who had perfected their Occlumency to such a degree they could fool the Dark Lord. Protecting one's mind was becoming a lost art, as their Lord did not care for it.

Draco, for more reasons than one, had only taught his own children rudimentary skills in kicking out sloppy Legilimens. To anyone with a modicum of skill, his children were open books.

Many years ago, there has been quite a few more practiced Occlumens. One of whom had fooled Draco so fully, it had nearly cost him everything.


	2. Chapter 2

**1998 - Early 2002**

Not long after the war ended, Draco had believed he could trust Pansy Parkinson. She had seemed just as lost as him, and when she had confided in him that one of her biggest regrets in life was that she had attempted to turn in Harry Potter, he had been stupid enough to buy it. Over the next three years, they worked together in secret to find the remnants of The Order of the Phoenix, offering them safe harbour until they could be smuggled out of the country.

Their ally within the Order had been George Weasley. After losing his twin that fateful day at Hogwarts, he had acted as if he had nothing else left in life to lose. And maybe he really hadn't. He had also lost another brother and his mother.

George's brother, Percy, had been rumored to be fighting on the "wrong" side during the final battle, but with no one left alive to be able to give a firsthand account of what exactly Percy had been doing, or who his spells had been aimed at, the slippery eel had settled right back into his Ministry position. As far as Draco could tell, Percy never again deviated from his vocal support of the new regime. His oldest daughter was currently Head Girl at The Heir's School in London, and you did not get that position without the right ideas ingrained into you.

When George Weasley popped up again and again, using his genius for deadly ambushes against Death Eaters and Snatchers, Draco had thought the ex-jokester reckless. But Pansy insisted George was their best bet for getting any others in hiding to trust them. The two of them had had a hell of a time convincing George they were on his side.

If being a double agent was trying, Draco could only imagine what it had been like for Pansy to work as a triple agent.

He had finally figured out Pansy's duplicity when George divulged he knew the location of Ron, and that he had started maneuvers to extradite him. The trio formulated a plan to send him to Canada. They had already sent his oldest brother, Bill, along with his Veela wife, Fleur, there the prior year. Except George could not seem to find them now.

Ron was deep in hiding, somewhere in Eastern Europe, was all George would reveal. Pansy kept trying to get George to bring him back to London. She insisted she was working with their Canadian contact on a portkey, and that Bill was a cursebreaker who had surely managed to hide himself under a Fidelius before. Ron would find his brother once he got there.

Growing suspicious, Draco set up a meeting alone with George and voiced his concerns about Pansy. They agreed on a plan to set a trap for her, with George Polyjuiced to look like his brother, Percy.

George, disguised as Percy, had "run into" Pansy at a cafe and struck up a conversation, leading to him asking if Pansy thought the rumors were true that Hermione Granger had been sighted in Perth. She had not acted surprised at the (fake) news. If only she had not been busy betraying Draco, he would have applauded her acting skills. She assured the false Percy that if it was true, then the witch would not be in hiding much longer.

However, the next step after the incident should have been for her to report back to Draco and George that one of the two biggest targets left for the Dark Lord's followers to hunt down was possibly in Australia. Instead, she continued to press for Ron to come to London.

A week later, an unfortunate accident befell Pansy while she was out on a mission… or at least that's what Draco led people to believe. He had zero remorse about what he'd had to do to the witch. Pansy could not do a non-verbal spell to save her life, quite literally, so after he had silenced and disarmed her, it had been fairly easy to dispatch her.

He had kept her alive long enough to torture her, dragging out any information he could.

Draco had begun mutely preparing ideas on how to flee the country on short notice as he yanked out her first fingernail. However, he quickly found, to his immense relief, that Pansy had kept his name out of all of it. Unsurprisingly, she had been seeking glory and a choice position within the ranks, leading to her decision to appear to be working alone.

Feeling confident enough in his combined use of Legilimency and a liberal dose of Veritaserum, he trusted the confession she gave between screams. His laughter rang out coldly upon her promise that she would continue to hide his existence as her accomplice while she begged for her life.

Soon enough, Pansy's pleas for her life turned into her hoping for a quick death.

The next answers he set upon extracting revealed that George Weasley was not so lucky as to remain anonymous. Pansy reported to Corban Yaxley, who knew exactly who George was. A well-placed Bombarda to Pansy's left ankle led to a shrieking disclosure that George was in no immediate danger. Yaxley's plan included keeping George as an unwitting contact until he brought them Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Ginny Weasley. Though Yaxley had not bothered to share with Pansy what would happen to George after that point, Draco had his suspicions, based upon other examples of what befell people no longer considered useful to the cause.

He pressed on, trepidation growing over what else she might reveal. Removing her shirt, Draco began the tedious process of carving runes into the soft flesh of her chest and stomach - first Kenaz for revelation and knowledge, Dagaz for home and the power of change, and Sowilo. The combination of Pansy's blood and magic leaking out through the runes gave Draco immense power over the witch.

Whimpered replies met each of Draco's next questions.

Draco chose to start with the couple George would most like to know about. "Where are Bill and Fleur Weasley?"

"No one knows where they are. Once the Portkey deposited them in Quebec, they chain-apparated away before any of the Death Eaters waiting for them could fire a single spell."

"What about Kingsley Shacklebolt?

"After his failure with the half-breed and her mongrel, Yaxley learned his lesson. There were anti-apparition wards up the next time we sent someone off. Shacklebolt managed to take out one of the four Death Eaters assigned to killing him, when the Portkey you gave him dropped him in Madagascar." Pansy hung her head tiredly after that confession.

"I suppose that means McGonagall and Lovegood are both dead too?" he snarled.

Pansy's head lolled to the side enough to allow her to see Draco from the corner of her eye.

"McGonagall isn't sipping drinks on the beach in the Caribbean in a tartan bathing suit, that's for sure," she barked out. Her laughter quickly turned to a harsh cough. When she recovered, she continued, "Lovegood has been kept alive and is being held at Zabini's manor. Someone stumbled upon intelligence leading our Lord to believe in her minor Seer's abilities. Once captured, she was considered an asset worth keeping. There's an intricate plot afoot, which includes false sightings and that published story in an academic journal you were so bloody happy to see. People actually believe she's made it to her destination in South America and is happily seeking fantastical creatures with the grandson of Newt Scamander. What a load of bullshit."

Draco's hard face matched his dark tone as he pressed on, "Need I even ask about the Patil Twins?"

"There's the beauty in Yaxley's plan. The Patil twins are exactly where we sent them - back to their grandparents in India - but they're presently under the Imperious. They're decoys meant to be seen in public just enough that Order members or sympathizers will continue to feel safe enough to come out from hiding," Pansy finished with a smirk.

Draco wiped the smirk off her face when he calmly, but with the full intent behind it, cast, "Crucio."

There were a handful of others he was wondering about, but he had already spent far too long getting this information from her. Knowing he himself was safe, but that George wasn't, he began forcing her to give up the final information he needed.

"Where is Hermione Granger?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Present Day**

"Father." Scorpius came up beside Draco. "How much longer are we staying?"

Draco turned to look at his son. The boy had just turned fifteen. Draco had not wanted to bring him tonight, but his wife had insisted upon it. Draco tried to convince her their son was too young for such an event. She quite needlessly reminded Draco that he'd barely been older than Scorpius was now when he began his service to their Lord.

At least she had agreed, that at only thirteen and eleven, their daughters Asterope and Carina should stay home with their governess.

When considering a list of possible traitors in their midst, Astoria Malfoy, née Greengrass, would not be on it. Nor would their son Scorpius.

Lucius had lined up the match between him and the younger Greengrass sister immediately following Pansy's death. Draco's father thought it would be best to get his son over the tragedy of losing his former intended, by replacing her as soon as possible. Astoria was available due to a...mistake made by her elder sister. Her family was paying their societal dues. Frankly, in the end, they probably thought they had won the lottery.

Draco and Pansy should have already been married by the time he'd had to kill her. She could not understand why he kept holding off. A Malfoy family heirloom ring adorned her left hand, and he fucked her regularly. Thank the gods he had been too busy thinking of cinnamon-colored eyes and wild curls rather than Pansy during the final two years, otherwise things would have been even more complicated. Although, at the time he had thought the opposite, feeling guilty over his duplicity against the only ally he thought he had on his side of things.

As it was, Lucius made sure the next contract entered upon had a stipulation regarding the length of time allowed before their vows. The courtship had been short, and Astoria fell pregnant soon after they wed.

Each time he took her, from their first time on, Draco hid away behind the shields of his mind, imagining someone quite different from the woman bearing his last name.

During the first few months of her pregnancy, Draco held onto the hope that Astoria might prove to be malleable to his way of seeing the world. She was younger than him, and her parents had managed to shelter her from much of the true nature of the Death Eaters.

Now, as a Malfoy, she no longer had the luxury of ignoring reality. Lord Voldemort had vacated Malfoy Manor, but he and many of his senior officials still met there frequently with both Lucius and Draco. After the second of these visits, Draco discovered Astoria hiding in her closet, clutching both hands protectively over her still-flat stomach, long after most of the revelers had Apparated or Floo'ed home. He had ventured to ask her if perhaps she wanted to have access to the Malfoy villa in the Loire Valley.

She had misinterpreted his offer. Instead of accepting it as an escape, she saw it as a challenge. The poised witch who greeted their "guests" scant weeks later was not the same Astoria. Draco had pulled her aside and accused her of taking a potion to build up her nerves. She, in turn, had straightened her back and given him a scathing look before deigning to answer, "I would never do anything to harm our child. I am doing my duty both as a Malfoy, and as a loyal subject to our Lord."

During the final trimester of her pregnancy, she began to show signs of distress once again. Astoria's health spiraled down quickly. Where she had once stood in the receiving room, welcoming in guests as they arrived, now she sat secluded in the conservatory during meetings, breathing in the magically purified, warm humid air their healer said she needed. Draco assigned two house elves to care for her day and night.

The diagnosis was dire - a family curse not necessarily forgotten, but willfully ignored after two hundreds years without incident. Ironically, this led to the final nail in the coffin of Draco's dead hope for a wife who could work with him. Lord Voldemort became his wife's savior when he decided to take her on as a project and successfully lifted her family's curse.

In return, he had declared a life debt which could be fulfilled with a promise from her to bear more than one child. Over time, Astoria and Draco Malfoy were able to present three perfect little purebloods to their master. Draco did it against his will - pieces of him quietly dying on the inside each time. Meanwhile, Astoria lamented her inability to have more than three children, unaware that Draco had secretly managed to find a Muggle doctor to perform a vasectomy on him. Though Healers had tested the both of them for fertility issues, magic had overlooked the little snips.

Between forcing herself to attend inner-circle planning sessions, having her life saved, and seeing the envy with which most other witches regarded her, Astoria had become a true believer along the way.

When his wife became his unknowing enemy, Draco's only hope of survival lay in letting her raise their children as if he shared her beliefs.

Now, Draco stood, contemplating Scorpius and wondering what advantage the evil little brat could possibly see in leaving early.

"This place is boring and quite dingy," the young wizard whinged. "Why does it matter that we come each year to the exact room where Harry Potter and a bunch of Mudblood-loving traitors were executed? I much prefer the events at the palaces in London."

Draco looked around. It was true his old school had never been repaired. In the immediate aftermath of that fateful battle, the school had been stripped bare. Any talk over the years of reopening it was quickly shot down. Their lord preferred to appropriate grand Muggle buildings in London. Only the Great Hall stood in full restoration, minus the house banners.

His son was merely bored. Of course he was.

"Well, Scorpius, seeing as you have never come here for an anniversary event before, I don't know where you get off with saying we," Draco drawled. "If you would prefer to be left behind again with your little sisters and your governess come next year, by all means, let me know now. I seem to remember you begging to come tonight. Perhaps I was mistaken?"

"Great, so we came. There's no one here my age. Why did mother have to insist I come? Maybe if there was a bit of fun going on…"

Draco knew exactly what Scorpius meant by fun. Astoria had already let him witness some of the tamer revel events. 'Tamer' being a comparative term.

"Are you daft? Muggles can't see Hogwarts. Even Lord Voldemort can't break that age-old enchantment. No point in trying to bring them here for any sort of sport."

"Hmmph," Scorpius snorted. "Well, what about some captured Mudbloods? Haven't we found any lately? They could have been brought along for entertainment."

Draco pulled his son close, holding his arm tight, and spoke directly into his ear. "If you know what is good for you, you'll shut your trap, stupid boy. This event is important to our Lord and if he for one moment thinks you are deriding it, I guarantee his next visit to our house will include some unfortunate consequences for you."

Scorpius went to move away, but Draco pulled him back in to hiss one more thing.

"And if I ever see you putting your cock anywhere near an impure witch, whether it's during a revel or not, there'll be hell to pay."

Scorpius came away pale, but quickly tried to hide the proof of the altercation. Looking around to see who might have noticed, he cast a quick spell on the wrinkles Draco's crushing grip had made on his sleeve. He narrowed his eyes at his father, but did not dare to talk back.

"Do you understand me?" Draco pressed.

"Perfectly," Scorpius answered. Draco slid inside his son's mind. He saw a mixture of fear and anger, but nothing that spoke of betrayal. He was in and out so quickly after seeing what he needed, Scorpius never knew he was there.

Draco was unsure how much longer he would be able to maintain a hold on his son's baser desires. Voldemort was breeding a multitude of addictions in the younger generation.

Casting dark spells led to a magical high - a rush of power and endorphins that potions simply could not match. However, that feeling was amazingly short-lived. It was gone mere minutes after a wizard finished casting. Draco understood the allure all too well after nearly twenty-five years of using both Unforgivables and lesser "grey" spells. A strong mind full of walls and cubbies in which one could hide pieces of himself, only to be taken out in privacy, could protect a wizard from the worst of it. Few had the skill, strength, and fortitude to do that.

When that high was unavailable, there were plenty who peddled potions to mimic the euphoria. Roger Davies was one such wizard. He had a thriving business right in the middle of Diagon Alley, sanctioned by the government for its medicinal uses. What a load of shite. But, doped up masses were easier to control, so long as you didn't cut off their supply.

And sex? Well, there was more than enough of that to go around. Half-bloods were able to charge for their services. Those with good pedigrees were even able to bring in a decent income acting as surrogates for purebloods looking to ensure they followed the Ministry's decree to increase magical blood. As long as you could prove four generations of magic before you, the fifth generation became pure. Wombs became a commodity to be bought.

At revels, Mudbloods had always used to be supplied for the enjoyment of the participants. However, it had been five years since the last adult Muggleborn had been caught. Now it was only Muggles passed around for the night, before they were killed.

Draco preferred not to dwell on the fate of the Muggleborn children found across Europe each year once their first displays of accidental magic registered with The Ministry.

The Inner Circle already knew that the "war" was essentially won. But, how to continue to spur the masses? Only with a threat looming over their head, even if it meant exaggerations or outright fabrications. Therefore, pictures of Mudbloods were still splashed across fliers hanging on lampposts and in shop windows. A list of the captured, printed in the newspaper, still listed blood status. Conspicuously missing from the list of captured Mudbloods was their age.

As long as you gave them someone to play with, revelers didn't ask too many questions, and that trickled down to the general public.

Sheep. Draco was surrounded by sheep.

"Why don't you find your mother and ask her to dance? She'd enjoy that," Draco offered as an out to his son. He had to consider the boy was not entirely an idiot when he took it with a curt nod.

Watching his son walk away, he allowed himself a small sigh.

"How is it," a voice came from beside Draco, someone appearing there while he had been distracted, "that we managed to have two of the biggest wankers for offspring?"


	4. Chapter 4

**1998 - Early 2002**

During the first few years after the Fall of Hogwarts, there had been small pockets of resistance fighters all over Europe. Both Pansy and Draco were part of an elite team of young wizards and witches with proven battle skills, sent on missions to find targets in other countries, with instructions to either capture or kill.

One evening, the envy Draco drew from his peers as the number of his solo assignments grew, came to a head.

"What the fuck makes you so special, Malfoy?" Marcus Flint demanded over drinks out in a pub.

"Yeah," Graham Montague chimed in, "who are you sucking off to get such choice assignments?"

Draco sneered. "Flint, no one is going to be sending you to a country where you need to speak French, Spanish, Italian, or Russian to fit in, when you barely speak proper English. Graham," Draco continued, turning his contemptuous glare onto the other man, "I saw your mother sucking off Macnair at a revel last week. Is she getting sent on missions now too?"

Blaise Zabini nearly choked on his scotch.

"The Dark Lord trusts me to do what needs to be done. Can't say the same for you, Flint, after you let Cho Chang get away." Draco enjoyed watching Marcus squirm. "If you have an issue with how our Lord makes assignments, take it up with him."

No one dared to do so, leaving Draco able to be gone for long stretches without suspicion.

It was easy enough for Draco to follow Pansy on a mission intended to weed out a couple of old wizards causing trouble in Amsterdam, and then make it appear as if she had run afoul of them, rather than implicating himself or George.

Whether the few still out there suspected something was afoot, or perhaps, there just wasn't anyone left, Draco wanted to know.

Which led to him using every last bit of magical energy he had to see if Parkinson knew anything about Granger's whereabouts.

He poured an immense amount of his power into pulling magic out through the runes he had carved into her, using the energy to power a simultaneous Crucio and Imperius upon her.

He broke her mind and her body, without getting the answer he sought. Not because Pansy was hiding anything; only because she did not know anything.

George had stayed behind in England only as long as it took for Draco to send him a Patronus from the Netherlands, letting him know the bitch was not going to be an issue anymore. Even if Draco could have kept him there as a contact, George had outgrown his usefulness. Finding Ron had been a big score, but they both knew no one else had contacted George in months.

As far as Pansy knew, the last anyone had seen of Granger in public was during the week following the death of Potter. Granger had broken into St. Mungo's, had looted a handful of shops in Diagon Alley, and finally, had been seen sprinting across the grounds at Hogwarts, making it into the relative safety of the forest before anyone could stop her. Each time, she had been alone.

At St. Mungo's, she had stolen more supplies and medicinal potions than could be catalogued.

In Diagon Alley, she had made it into Ollivanders, Slug Jiggers, and Obscurus Books; each on three separate visits.

No one was quite sure what she had been doing in Hogwarts. After taking away all of the bodies after the battle, only a couple of lesser Snatchers had been left behind, stationed there to keep an eye on the place. Most of it had been deemed unsafe. There were still occasional walls crashing down and random suits of armor wandering around at that point in time. It had not occurred to anyone that there might be a reason to go back so soon.

While the Death Eaters had been busy roaming the countryside, rooting out wizards and witches from obscure hiding spots, mercilessly hunting down their enemies, newly minted Enemy Number One, Hermione Granger, continued to operate in plain sight for those few days.

The last report presented to the Dark Lord concerning her had ended with the sight of her hair whipping in the wind as she made it to the treeline surrounding Hogwarts.

Draco neglected to report the little river otter who lived on his estate beginning the summer of 1999.


	5. Chapter 5

**Present Day**

"Salazar! What the hell, Nott?" Draco narrowed his eyes at Theodore Nott accusingly. Draco was angry at the wizard for daring to sneak up on him, but also with himself for allowing anyone to get so close while he stood unaware.

Theo was poised with one hand in the pocket of his perfectly tailored trousers, while he held champagne in the other. Draco did not doubt Theo's wand was in the hidden hand. The man was notoriously paranoid.

No one had been allowed inside Nott manor in nearly ten years, other than the Malfoys and the Dark Lord himself. Ever since his wife, Daphne Nott,néeGreengrass, and their son had barely escaped alive from an attack while Theo was out of the country, he had stopped entertaining. Draco knew their Lord only made a token visit as to indicate that he trusted Theo not to be hiding anything.

Showing his face in public often enough to make up for the lack of entertaining at his home, Theo still was usually present at large events like this without his family. He rarely came to any private events. Daphne and Astoria insisted their sons grow up together, even if Scorpius was a year younger. Even so, they mostly associated at Malfoy Manor. Draco could count on one hand, the number of times he had stepped into Nott Manor since the incident.

"So, Astoria won out with bringing Scorpius tonight," Theo stated blandly, watching the younger Malfoy walk across the room towards his mother. Draco was not fooled into thinking Theo wasn't also watching for Draco's reaction to his statement, even though the other wizard appeared to not be looking at him.

Knowing that, he still could not help letting some bitterness creep into his voice when he defended the presence of his son. "We agreed it was time he started solidifying his position."

Theo barely turned his head to allow Draco to see a ghost of smirk. "I'm sure."

Coolly appraising his friend, Draco wondered what Theo was playing at. Out of all the people Draco chose to associate with, rather than the crowd he was forced to endure for political reasons, Theodore Nott occasionally manged to be an enigma to him.

They'd had playdates as young children, their mothers frequently coming together for tea and gossip. When Theo's father became a widower, the playdates had stopped. Draco had asked after his friend, but Narcissa had looked so sad each time she told him, "Maybe another day," he had quickly stopped.

Despite becoming reacquainted at Hogwarts, they were by no means close. Draco had Crabbe and Goyle as his goons by that time, and Theo showed little desire to be a follower. The tall, quiet boy operated alone as much as possible, preferring the library to studying in the common room. Rarely did he attend Quidditch matches, and it was not until classes grew smaller after OWLs, that Draco even sat with him during lessons.

"If Bryan were here, I am sure he'd be right by Scorpius' side," Theo remarked. "Thick as thieves."

"I'm sure Bryan would be in some dark corner with a witch, hand up her skirt," Draco replied. "Scorpius would be his lookout, waiting to hear the details later."

Draco neglected to add what he was sure Theo already knew, that his son would gladly use the salacious story as wanking material.

"Yes, my son is paving quite the path the nearer he gets to coming of age." Theo admitted. "I wouldn't be surprised if Scorpius might have tried a little touch and tickle, himself, with Bryan here to goad him on."

Daphne and Theo were a true love match, not arranged like Draco and Astoria. Nott Sr. had been found asphyxiated in a corner booth at a back alley pub just six weeks after Lord Voldemort won the war, before any marriage contracts could be signed. No one had ever been charged with his murder.

Now that he did not have to wait for his paterfamilias to negotiate on his behalf, Theo had not wasted any time in proposing a secret elopement to his longtime girlfriend. She had accepted, and much to her family's chagrin, the two had turned up married not a week later.

They held off a bit on producing an heir for Theo, insisting they were young. Draco was sure there had been pressure from a few fronts for the two to start the next generation of loyal subjects, but Daphne had not fallen pregnant until nearly two years into their marriage.

At the time of the attack, Daphne had been pregnant with their second, tragically losing the baby two days later. It was something they never spoke of. She had just begun showing; Astoria had been over the moon that she would be an aunt again. The Notts' second child would have been nearly seven years younger than their first.

Before Daphne's second pregnancy, Draco had grown sick of hearing Astoria worry that Daphne was going to anger their Lord by only having one child. She had not kept quiet on this opinion to Daphne and Theo either. Her insesient blathering about the righteousness of the cause and a woman's duty to help grow thetruemagical population got old after the fiftieth round.

Thankfully, she had the tact to keep her gob shut afterward.

Theo might be meticulous about showing up to events like these, but Daphne refused to come. After losing her child, she had been irrevocably broken... something else they never spoke of. The two men did consider their sons to be fair game, both agreeing that the boys were twats.

"Perhaps," Draco acknowledged, looking around at a few of the known slags in the room.

More than one of them had propositioned Theo un front of Draco before. He, himself, had been on the receiving end of Floo addresses slipped into his hand. Both men always said no. Draco would not put it past some of them to consider it fine revenge to tup his son. Or, for either of their sons to take something like that, if willingly offered.

Draco got the sense that behind closed doors, the Notts lived a very different life from him. The way Daphne laid small touches of her hand upon Theo, even in public, was his first clue. When it was just the two families at one of their homes, she was even more free with her affections, kissing him on the cheek or holding his hand.

When Bryan came along, Daphne nursed him herself, much to Astoria's thinly disguised disgust. All three of the Malfoy children required Draco to hire wet nurses. The young boy sat comfortably in his father's lap, enjoying freely given affection. Draco was not sure his own son had ever come to him when he was hurt or upset. Instead, there had been a nanny to offer comfort. Astoria insisted it was the way things were meant to be. No coddling a child.

Draco's relationship with his own father had been much the same, so he had gone along with it. Yet, up until the age of ten, he at least had his mother's arms to run into whenever he wanted. It was not until that final year before starting Hogwarts that Lucius had laid down a stricter way of behaving around Narcissa.

Draco wilfully ignored the differences between the two sisters, otherwise he would have found himself jealous of someone else's marriage more often than he cared to admit.

As if reading his thoughts, Theo whispered, "Ever wonder if things could have been different?"

Draco carefully cast a non-verbal, wandless Muffliato. He had practised that spell ad nauseum to be able to do it completely undetected. There was no point in trying to have a bit of privacy in a crowd, if everyone in the crowd knew you wanted your conversation to go unheard.

"What do you mean?" Draco moved his lips as little as possible, holding his glass up to cover them just in case.

Theo spoke into his glass, feigning the act of drinking, "Have you ever wondered what could have been? What if Granger hadn't disappeared?"

Draco stiffened. He could not stop his visceral reaction - and he knew he'd been caught. Shite. Could he still write it off as surprise that Theo was the one implicating himself as a traitor? Yes, that could work, he quickly realized. Looking into Theo's inscrutable face, Draco prepared to accuse his accuser.

"I had a peculiar otter show up on my property, back in 2002. It stuck around for a few months." Theo preempted him as he gave Draco a significant look.

Draco sucked in a breath. "Why are you telling me this now?" he demanded, forgetting to cover his mouth.

"How about we go to my place to continue this conversation?" Theo suggested, arching a brow before glancing around meaningfully.


	6. Chapter 6

**1999**

Initially, Draco had not realized anything was different about the lithe little mammal he had spotted scampering across a field one night - it looked just like any other otter he had seen over the years on the expansive Malfoy property.

He had just helped George Weasley off through a small hole within his wards where apparition in and out could be hidden from his parents. Draco had admired the way the moonlight glinted off the little otter before striding back along the trail towards his house. During the mile or so walk, he had not thought on it again.

The next time he saw George, he had not seen the otter. But the time after that, Draco had been running a few minutes early. When he made his way down to the secluded grove, an otter was once again just disappearing in the night. Remembering the last time he had seen an otter, he could have sworn it was the same one. He could have also sworn it had flounced its tail at him a bit aggressively.

As he turned to regard his informant, he observed George doing nothing to hide a snicker.

It had taken him nearly a week of sitting calmly near the water's edge on the small lake he owned before the otter let itself be seen. Not for a single moment did Draco doubt it had been regarding him each night before, weighing the pros and cons of coming out of its hidey-hole.

The otter stood up on its forelegs, regarding him coolly from a safe distance. Sitting quietly, he wondered if he could win a staring contest with the little bugger. When it went down onto all fours, looking as if it meant to leave, he gave in.

"I could have sent my hounds out for you that same night."

He felt, more than saw, its disdain. The creature did not stand back up again, but merely cocked its head to the side, eyes glinting in the moonlight.

"I also could have used a myriad of spells to track you down."

In the quiet night, the sound of its snort traveled to him easily.

"Muggle traps with charms to make them undetectable would have worked nicely."

Brazenly, the otter moved closer, then turned, tail raised, to show him its arse. Draco laughed. Laughter was rare for him these days, and he treasured the moments he felt free enough to indulge in it.

"No, I suppose you're a bit too clever, even for that, if you've managed to become an unregistered Animagus," he acknowledged.

It turned back to face him again, but did not bother to move back to its former spot.

"What now?" he asked. "Do you plan to reveal who you are?"

The otter shook its head.

"Do you need anything from me?"

The otter nodded.

"How do I know I can trust you?"

The otter chirped at him. He imagined it saying, "Fuck you."

"Right. I suppose you expect me to trust you because George Weasley knows you?"

The otter laid down on the ground. Draco was not sure what that meant, at first, until it rolled over and showed him its underside - a sign of vulnerability.

He sighed, conceding, "Okay, you're right. In the end, I do have the upper hand. But, if you refuse to switch back to your human form, how am I supposed to know what you want?"

The otter flipped over and supinely ran under a bush. Leaves flipped up behind its paws until a scrap of parchment was revealed hidden underneath the debris. When Draco stood to retrieve it, the otter skittered to the side to avoid him.

"Ahhh, so the trust doesn't quite go both ways. Yet, you knew I would sit in the same spot as last night, and you prepared for me. You _really are_ a smart little thing," he concluded.

When he grabbed the paper it had four words printed on it in neat script he found vaguely familiar: _I need Mandrake leaves_.

He looked down, taking barely a second to digest the words, but the otter chose that time to race away. The thought occurred to him that he had a wand, and that it would be fairly easy to fire any number of spells at its back. Instead, he took pleasure in watching her gambol across a few logs before she dove into the depths of the moonlit water.

Chuckling to himself, Draco strolled back toward the manor. He had a lot to think about. First and foremost, was the new clue to mystery of Animagus' identity to ponder. The otter's belly reveal had shown Draco he was definitely dealing with a witch. Additionally, he now had the conundrum of how to get his hands on Mandrake leaves without raising suspicions.

**This isn't going to be a very long story - we're at the halfway point already. I do love getting feedback, even if you want to give me some constructive criticism. **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: There is a rape scene near the end of this chapter. It's not graphic, but I don't want anyone to be unwarned. I will also warn you that having read it myself numerous times, I still cry over it.**

**Late 2002**

It took eight months for Draco to formulate a plan on how to get into Blaise Zabini's place and talk to Luna Lovegood. His plan did not include rescuing her. That was a foolhardy mission he could not undertake. He figured he had used up years of good luck, karma, or whatever you called it, by managing to both kill Pansy and help George escape the country undetected. No, this mission only included getting information he hoped would help him track down Granger.

The Dark Lord had turned a blind eye to Blaise avoiding settling down. The dark-skinned wizard had little trouble catching the eye of various witches. Due to Blaise's loose lips during their school days, Draco knew that Zabini also had no trouble casting a contraceptive spell. Yet, after the second accidental pregnancy of an unattached witch resulted in a child that clearly belonged to Blaise, Draco suspected something was afoot. Dare he say, he was a smidgeon jealous of Blaise's sneaky way of avoiding marriage while supplying the mandatory pureblood children.

Zabini's aloof 'love them, then leave them' attitude had morphed into a 'love them, then leave them knocked up' attitude. When Draco found out a third witch was barely along with a little illegitimate Zabini in the oven, he manipulated the situation to give him the in he had been searching for.

Putting the woman under the Imperius, Draco began an insidious assault on Zabini's estate. The crafty Italian had managed to get ironclad agreements signed while paying off the first two witches to bear his offspring. This woman was not going to be so easy. And, as Zabini's solicitor, Draco was advising him to fight this third witch with everything he had, rather than settling.

Draco was beyond skilled at being a double agent by this point; playing a client off of a woman, who, via the Imperious, was in essence Draco himself, was child's play.

For the birth, Draco engineered a plot that took Blaise away from his estate for two days, forcing him to live in a guestroom at the house of the new mother. The convoluted agreement between both parties also involved all of Blaise's house elves being there to pledge themselves to the new young master. With the hope of finalizing some sort of agreement between himself and the witch, Blaise agreed.

Being the _good mate_ he was, Draco offered one of his own elves to manage the Zabini estate during that time, apologizing, "It's the least I could do, to make up for not being able to win this one for an excellent client."

Draco's elf happily Apparated his master straight into the estate once it was empty - except for Lovegood. He found her quite easily after casting _Homenum Revelio_. Her signature showed up as the only one in the mansion.

Quietly walking towards the room she was held in, Draco had no idea what to expect. Heavy wards protected the area, necessitating help from Draco's elf once again. Random revelers drunkenly staggering around the manor wouldn't be able to get to where Luna was held if the head of the household and his elves were there. Luckily, Draco had expertly planned a way to be alone.

Draco certainly had not dreamt that Luna lived in an entire suite of rooms, so it was with some surprise that he took in her chambers. It was nothing like the cells any other prisoners he had dealt with were forced to live in. Luna surely had not been anywhere near that lucky when imprisoned for four months in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor as a sixteen-year-old.

"It's okay," he started out first thing upon opening the door to her outer sitting room, walking in with his hands raised where she could see they were empty.

"I know that," she answered serenely. "Although you don't have to try to pretend you can't perform wandless magic for my sake."

Draco lowered his hands to his side.

Still, he did not draw his wand; that would be beyond rude. Though he was in a position to retrieve it fractionally faster with his hand now next to his pocket.

A glance around the room showed him a good sized bookshelf full of tomes, more than one comfy chaise, and a window looking out over the grounds with an easel in front of it. The canvas sitting upon it contained a half-painted scene that looked nothing like what he could see beyond it.

"I'm painting what the land wishes to be, not what it is," the wispy witch told Draco, following his sight-line.

Unsure of exactly how to follow up that statement, Draco ignored it. "Just so you don't get your hopes up, I'm not here to rescue you. I couldn't help you the last time you were imprisoned, and I find myself in a similar bind once again," he began.

"It seems you wish to be something other than you are, too," Luna observed. "Perhaps if I painted you into my landscape, you'd be free to be yourself."

"Can you see me being free?" Draco's voice caught, a sudden hope constricting his throat.

Luna regarded him, eyes roaming from his family ring on his right hand, to the more recently added ring on his left. He tried not to flinch when her gazed skated over his left arm and instead came to rest on the pocket which held his wand.

"Show me your Patronus," she whispered.

"You know Death Eaters can't cast one," he obfuscated.

Her eyes raised to his. "Please don't lie to me, it's tiresome," she sighed.

Still, he hesitated. Only two people knew he could cast the complicated spell. One had taken endless pride in having taught it to him; the other had endlessly teased him for the form it took.

"My mother loved Muggle music. I remember the way her hair glittered like fairy dust in the summer sun. She always seemed to be listening to a transistor radio while gardening." Luna's mind seemed to be going off in a different direction after he took too long to comply with her request.

Luna's singing voice sounded nothing like her speaking voice. It was low and husky. With her eyes closed, she twirled slowly while she sang. "Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose…"

Letting her words wash over him, Draco closed his eyes too. Emotions overwhelming him, he drew his wand out, a collage of moments and scenes flickering behind his eyelids. "_Expecto Patronum_," he stated clearly, focusing on the happiness Hermione had brought into his otherwise dark life.

Luna stopped singing. Sensing the spell had worked, he opened his eyes, finding Luna with a look of pure joy on her face as she took in the glowing little ferret floating between them. She clapped her hands and laughed.

"Mine's a hare, you know." No, he had not known. Luna continued, "Harry taught it to me. Hermione's otter Patronus liked to chase it. I suppose hers likes yours more than it did mine, though."

Completely forgetting any hesitation he had felt before entering the room, Draco latched onto Luna's use of the present tense. "Is Hermione alive? Can you see where she is?"

"Yes."

Like a candle being snuffed out, the glowing ferret snapped out of existence. Draco's fist clenched around his wand. "Yes? Just 'yes'?"

"Yes," she repeated. He waited a beat for her to elaborate, but she didn't seem inclined to say more.

"Can you tell me where she is?" he snapped.

Stepping towards him, her hand held up against her heart, Luna stopped only an arm's length from him. "I can feel her in here." Luna tapped her chest. "And I can see her in here," she added, pressing her palm to his sternum.

Draco ripped her hand away from his body. "I don't want your gibberish, Luna. I want to know if you can help me find her again. The real her."

"It's time for you to go," Luna said, turning her back on him to walk to her painting and pick up a brush. "Don't worry, I won't tell Blaise you were here."

"Wait! You haven't told me anything!" Draco's voice rose desperately. Stalking over to Luna's easel, he raked a hand through his hair, trying to think what to say.

Luna dabbed her brush in a dark red color and began to fill in the sun with it. "I told you, it's time."

The urge to grab her and shake her nearly overwhelmed Draco. He wanted to try out some of the things on her that he had done to Pansy. In the end, Pansy had talked. Doubtless, he could make Luna talk, too.

"No, no, no," he asserted, shaking his head, regaining control over his thoughts. Luna seemed to understand he wasn't responding to her when he spoke aloud; she did not acknowledge him.

Guilt flooded him, causing him to blurt out, "Is Blaise treating you okay? I mean, you seem fine here, not withstanding Blaise holding you prisoner for the Dark Lord."

Luna's strokes paused as she looked over her shoulder to him. A thin smile ghosted her lips without reaching her eyes. "He will keep me as safe as he can, for as long as he can."

The envy Draco had fleetingly held in regards to Blaise's sly way of avoiding marriage through bondless procreation had vanished even before he had his elf return him to Malfoy Manor.

Years after their conversation, when Luna died, it was a public spectacle. The Dark Lord called a revel at Zabini Manor and had her paraded out before them all. He wove a tale of Blaise capturing her when she tried to sneak back into England from South America. Draco could only assume her prophecies were no longer needed.

As a reward for apprehending such a high level traitor, Blaise was given the _honor_ having her first in front of everyone. With a flick of his wrist, their Lord divested Luna of her clothing. With another flick, the woman was flat on her back with shackles holding her hands above her head and her legs apart.

The crowd began to form a circle around her, many jockeying for prime viewing, or a spot where they could be easily in line to have her next. Draco moved into place as expected.

Horror blossomed in Draco's chest, directly under the spot where he could feel the memory of Luna's hand ghosting over him, as he watched Blaise unbutton the fly on his trousers. The dark-skinned wizard's face betrayed none of his feelings - he wore the same sneer Draco had seen any number of times before when in this same situation. Draco forced himself to keep his eyes trained on Blaise's moving hips the entire time, with a fake smirk plastered on just in case anyone glanced his way. There was always someone watching the crowd, rather than the action, looking for signs of weakness.

When it came to be Draco's turn, he slipped inside Luna's mind, trying to give her the peace his body couldn't. He found her huddled in a dark corner, hands over her head. Calling her name, Draco begged Luna to open her eyes. Finally, his pleading tone broke through, and she raised her tear-streaked face.

Magic worked best when in proximity to its target, which could perhaps account for Draco's ability to pull every happy thought into the forefront of his mind to create a Patronus inside their shared conscious. One final time, his intent became reality, producing an ethereal ferret.

Luna choked out a sob when it nudged her hand. "Did you ever look up what ferrets symbolize?" she whispered, her bloodshot eyes meeting his.

"A secretive nature. Resourcefulness. A loner who can circumvent a problem through cunning and planning, rather than tackling it head on. Ruthlessness."

Canting her head to the side, Luna regarded Draco as he listed each characteristic. And then, surprisingly, she smiled. "You left one out. Methodically searching for a given target."

"Show me your hare," he cajoled, wishing to ask her for more, but knowing time was running out.

In an act more intimate than the one his corporeal body was performing, Draco witnessed Luna's happiest moments as she struggled to do as he asked.

He let her hare chase his ferret as long as he could.


	8. Chapter 8

**Late 1999**

Draco remembered the first time he saw the tawny fox sitting beside the otter, both by the feet of George Weasley, in the wizards' usual meeting spot. It was roughly six weeks after he presented the otter with Mandrake leaves.

Even before that night, Draco had noticed a pattern to the otter's presence. It only appeared when Pansy was not there. He had held off telling Pansy about the otter the moment he realized it was an Animagus because he curious and wanted to find out who it was first. His decision was solidified by George not saying anything either. Upon realizing the otter was a witch, he had gotten a strange feeling in his gut.

The fox revealing itself now, on a night when Pansy was once again not present, confirmed his suspicions.

"I suppose I should make sure my hounds don't come after you, either?" Draco addressed the new animal.

He had been surprised, but remained perfectly still, when it stood and moved unhesitatingly to his side. Its nose tilted up and it sniffed his left arm. The fox's lips pulled back, revealing sharp canine teeth as it let out a low snarl at the spot Draco's Dark Mark lay hidden by his cloak.

Draco felt sure the animal could hear the telltale change in his heart rate. He managed a steady voice when he told it, "Yeah, I don't much care for what's under there either, mate."

The fox stopped growling, but remained next to him. Draco slowly moved his hand towards its head, drawn by the soft-looking fur. "Can I?" he whispered. When the little beast did not run away, Draco placed an open palm softly atop it. Staying perfectly still, the fox allowed a few strokes behind its ears before it bound back to George's side.

George was outright laughing, something Draco had not seen him do even once since they had begun working together. He looked down to find the otter was lying on its side, panting out strange chirps.

"Glad I could amuse you," he sneered.

George took a steadying breath. "Oi! Don't get your knickers in a twist, Malfoy. It's just, if only you knew who you were petting..." he trailed off with another chuckle.

Draco looked back to the fox. "Care to enlighten me?"

The fox swished its tail violently and snorted.

Draco saw the fox on and off for a few more months. Sometimes in the company of George, sometimes not. Once, he watched curiously as it ran across a snow-covered field with a black marmoset sitting on his back. Then there was the last time, just a week later. After that, he never heard what became of Neville Longbottom.

He wasn't captured, that would have made for quite the spectacle in the newspapers and at a revel. He just quietly disappeared into the shadows that surround a drawn-out war, the same as countless others. The official government line was that Neville, and so many like him, were presumed dead. Unofficially, a list was kept, and quite the reward would be presented to anyone who found remaining rebels.

Other strange animals came and went. Draco soon realized he had no hope of keeping hounds. He sold them to Urquhart, claiming that his frequent missions on behalf of their cause kept him from running them properly.

He wondered how his parents never noticed the menagerie moving around their estate. It wasn't as if they didn't enjoy spending time outdoors. Narcissa came out to her gardens quite often, but did not venture much past the highly maintained formal areas. Lucius liked to ride his horse, but as he grew older, he no longer deviated from his proscribed path. Draco discerned the guests he allowed access had noticed the elder Malfoys' habits.

The second time the little otter asked for Mandrake leaves, it was with much less fanfare than the first. The mustelid had taken to leaving notes asking for various small things under a rock near the spot Draco and George met. Sometimes the animal itself was there when Draco retrieved the notes, other times it wasn't.

This time he found her waiting for him, calmly washing her ears with a paw. The night was overcast, with the moon occasionally showing itself through breaks in the clouds. He had not cast a Lumos, worried he would be seen, but his eyes had adjusted by the time he arrived.

"I'd like to learn too, you know. It could come in handy," Draco informed her upon reading the note. "Could you teach me?"

He had grown quite used to the one-sided conversations. It had been nearly nine months now, and the witch still refused to take her human form in front of him. A niggling worry had settled in that maybe she couldn't. Maybe she had inadvertently got herself stuck in this form? The risk of it happening was known - dissuading many from attempting the transformation. Well, that and the thought of having a leaf inside of their mouth day and night for a month straight. Along with the necessary meditations. Oh, and the crazy amount of rituals that had to be timed to the phases of the moon. So, in conclusion, one had to be very sure they knew what they were getting into.

The otter moved up right in front of him and cocked her head, inspecting him. He stoically awaited her judgement. She made some strange gestures with her paw.

"I'm not sure what you want me to do," he admitted after a moment's thought. "Is that a yes? Or a no?"

The otter sat down. It tapped a paw on the ground, then went still.

"Do you want me to sit?" He looked around. There was nothing that looked capable of being transfigured into a seat.

The otter nodded. Draco sat straight on the spongy ground, casting a warming spell around him.

The otter inched closer, coming right up to his knees. For the first time in their new history, she let him touch her. Her fur did not feel the way he had been expecting. It wasn't a bad feeling, but it wasn't anything like the fox.

He ventured a scratch behind an ear and was rewarded with a contented hum. Soon he found himself with an otter in his lap, who may or may not have been purring.

"This is definitely a 'yes'. No taking it back now," he said in a low tone, his stomach clenching with a feeling he wasn't ready to name. He smirked at the upside-down creature sprawled across him, her head dangling over his thigh.

Draco considered his options as he stroked her lighter-colored, soft underside, and came to an easy conclusion. It was time to lay down his hand, showing her all of his cards.

"I have to know if you're still capable of turning back into a human before I allow you to help me with my transformation. I've see you help others achieve their Animagus form, so it's not that I don't trust your ability to teach me. Even if it's just one time, I have to know that this form isn't all I'll ever get of you, Granger." His voice hitched at the end of his pseudo-confession.

She stared at him, no longer purring, her body tense.

"What, you didn't think I knew it was you?" he asked quietly.

She huffed at him before squirming off his lap. She slowly backed up a few meters. She wrinkled her nose and twitched her whiskers at him. He wanted to tell her how adorable that was, but thought this would be a poor time to mention it.

Closing her eyes, she wriggled her body in a way that reminded Draco of the times he had seen her shaking off water after exiting the lake. There was an assumption that a person who grew up around magic was not as in awe of it as a person who had not. Most of the time he would agree with that. This was not one of them. With each quick twist of her body, multiple changes occurred, each happening so swiftly, he could not hope to catch them all. Her shedding fur flew off her body, the hairs disappearing before they hit the ground. The otter's tail shrank back up into her spine. Paws changed into hands, the webbing between the fingers receding. Her face morphed as the hair on her head cascaded down beyond her shoulders. It was all over in an instant, leaving a naked Hermione Granger standing before him.

He jumped up and threw his cloak at her. She caught it, arching her brow at him. Draco marveled at her lack of embarrassment as she languidly wrapped the thick garment around her shoulders.

"Really, Malfoy? Did you think otters could write notes?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Present Day**

Draco made his excuses to Astoria, ascertaining she would see Scorpius home safely. He mumbled something about Theo needing to talk, not giving a damn as to how she took it. Theo stood waiting just inside the Entrance Hall, the only other non-dilapidated section of the castle.

Draco knew the state of the rest of the castle intimately; he frequently found excuses to re-explore it, hoping to find a clue to the mystery surrounding the disappearance of Hermione. Now he suspected he had been looking in entirely the wrong places all along.

The two men walked swiftly down the path towards the spot where the front gate once stood. The wall had been torn asunder there during the battle; rusted metal still sat twisted amongst rubble. Neither wizard said a word as they made their way out of the gaping wound. Two pops sounded in the still night air.

Draco Apparated outside Nott Manor's front door. Theo appeared beside him. Theo could have Apparated inside his own home, but etiquette dictated he not leave his guest standing there alone. A house elf opened the front door for them.

"Lucky, Mister Malfoy and I would like a bottle of Firewhisky, an assortment of pâtés, and a crudités tray in my study. After you deliver that, we are not to be disturbed," Theo commanded the elf.

Lucky bowed, then disappeared.

Draco raised a brow. "Didn't get enough to eat at the party?"

Theo strode down the hall, answering over his shoulder, "I'm expecting a long night."

When they reached the door to Theo's study, he paused, offering Draco a quelling look. "Right. I'm sure you understand what's expected here."

The magical vibrations around the room alerted Draco to the strength of the wards. There would be a blood requirement at best, blood plus a cumbersome spell, at worst.

Two spells and a few drops of blood later, and both men were inside the room. Draco took a cursory glance around before training his eyes back on Theo.

"Now talk," he demanded. "Where is Hermione Granger?"

"I don't know where she is now. The last I heard from her was fifteen years ago," Theo began his tale.

Draco poured himself a full glass of Firewhisky, figuring he'd need more than the traditional two-fingers.

"How much do you know about her? About us?" Draco tried to worm his way into Theo's mind, hoping to see anything he was trying to hide before he could even answer the questions. He came up against a strong wall; Theo was not even bothering to pretend at not knowing Draco was using Legilimency.

"No need to force your way in. I plan to tell you everything," Theo said, narrowing his eyes.

Draco knew he'd been rude, but he wanted answers now. "Fine," he growled, sitting down in a chair.

"And I know everything, plus more than you." Theo said smugly.

Draco dug his hand into the leather-clad arm of his seat. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You're trying my nerves."

"I'm under an Unbreakable Vow, you have to know. I think I know how to phrase everything so as to not, well, break my vow. Please excuse me when I stutter or stop." With that warning, Theo began in earnest.

"Hermione appeared in her Animagus form on my grounds in the spring of 2002. I never bothered to ask how long she watched me before she revealed herself, but I suspect it wasn't more than a handful of days. She just wanted to catch me alone, after all. I was out to check on my stables - a mare had just foaled. Daphne insisted the birth was auspicious, being so close to Bryan's due date, and she wanted me to do everything I could to make sure the foal survived. Those final days of a witch's pregnancy can be stifling, so really, I was happy for the excuse to leave the house for a short while."

Draco nodded, understanding all too well, but also silently urging Theo along.

Theo snorted, clearly thinking something he wouldn't, or couldn't, say aloud before he continued, "She snuck up on me, had me bound and silenced before I knew she was there. Not my finest moment. After it was all over, I changed the wards drastically. But right then, all I could think about was leaving behind my wife and unborn son. She looked a fright, Hermione did. She seemed sick…"

Draco interrupted, "She was fine the last time I saw her." He leaned forward in his chair, voice lowering threateningly. "What happened to her?"

Theo's eyes slid to the side, avoiding Draco's intense gaze. He spoke to an empty space above Draco's shoulder. "She didn't come straight to me. Salazar, I wish she would have. Maybe with a couple extra months on the front end to protect her, to plan, things could have been different… She spent so much time in her otter form. Being an Animagus saved her more than told me that it made her safer, being small and unseen…" Theo trailed off with a shudder. He took a long sip of his drink, then turned haunted eyes back to Draco.

"But I'm getting ahead of myself. She had me tied up, a wand pointed at my face. She may have looked like shite, but her hand was steady," Theo spoke quickly, the words tumbling out. "She reminded me of a life-debt I owed her from the battle at Hogwarts. I felt the magic tingle around me as she said it. She knew what she was doing; she said everything correctly to invoke repayment. She forced me into the Unbreakable Vow."

Draco bit the inside of his cheek. It was all he could do not to blurt out questions at Theo. He sensed his friend's unease with telling this story now, after all these years, long after any effect could be had upon the events. If he interrupted, he might be losing any hope of hearing exactly what happened to Hermione.

"Once she extracted an ironclad guarantee I couldn't hurt her, you, or …" Theo licked his lips. The whites of his eyes showed more than was normal.

The silence stretched unbearably until, suddenly, the glass in Draco's hand shattered, along with the one in Theo's hand. On top of those explosions came a glass curio cabinet, which swiftly stood in ruins. A late 17th century grandfather clock in the corner ticked on without its glass face, and a frame stood empty, pieces of a gilded mirror below it.

Blood pooled in Draco's palm. He looked at it in amazement, admiring the paths the red rivulets took. He barely registered a stinging feeling in his right temple.

Looking up from his hand, Draco noted that Theo's lips were once again moving, but all he could hear was a loud buzzing noise. Getting up from the chair, he began to pace. Glass crunched under his feet. He ran both hands through his hair, unconcerned with the blood he was assuredly smearing around.

"Fuck," he whispered. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

He stopped and stared at Theo, who was no longer moving his mouth.

"Draco, you have to understand," Theo pleaded.

"No, I don't have to understand anything! She was pregnant!"

Theo slowly nodded a confirmation, although that had been a statement rather than a question.

Draco clutched his stomach. It ached so bad he thought he might throw up. "She was pregnant with my child and she ran away from me. Fuck! Why did she run away from me?"

"She was scared, Draco. Scared of you being caught. Scared of what would happen to her if she was caught. But, most of all, scared for your baby."

Theo saying it aloud made it real, Draco realized. He and Granger had created a life together.

Draco ceased pacing directly in front of Theo. "I could have protected her!" he shouted, jabbing a finger towards his own chest. "I already was protecting her! Why'd she really come to you, Theo?"

Theo looked down at his hands, the one which had been holding his drink was also bleeding. He looked exhausted. The errant thought passed through Draco's mind that until today, he had not noticed the number of grey hairs on his friend's head. When had they gotten _old_?

"She knew the reality, Draco. She was accidentally knocked up with your sprog. Merlin help her, but she wanted to protect you, and thought she was doing that by leaving. She thought she was protecting all of you. She wasn't just scared by the war, you bloody idiot! She thought there was a chance you would try to make her get rid of the baby. Fucking a Mudblood is one thing, but letting them dirty your line? That's a whole other thing. On top of all of that, which mind you, is a heap of shite, there was still her final issue."

By the end of his speech, Theo was no longer looking down and had taken to shouting right back at Draco. Draco noticed something as he spoke. Theo had trouble calling Hermione a Mudblood and there was a quiver in his voice at the end.

"Were you in love with her?" Draco demanded.

Theo rolled his eyes and a ghost of a smile crossed his lips. "No. We became… friends while she was here. But, no. Daphne's it for me. And that's part of why I wanted to talk to you too. But first, we need to finish this. And I need to ask you the same question. Are you in love with Hermione Granger?"

Was Draco still in love with a woman he had not seen in sixteen years? He thought of everything he had been through since then. He certainly was not the same man she had allowed herself to be vulnerable with. Yet, when he imagined a life he really wanted to live, a future that would have been worth a damn, it was not Astoria he pictured. It had never been Astoria he pictured.

For a while, he had tried to see past Astoria, to the three children she had given him, placating himself that a loveless marriage was fine, because at least he had children to love, and be loved by. But time had stolen that illusion from him, too. He felt next to nothing for any of them. In fact, he was already beginning to feel more regarding a child he had never known he had. And why? Because the child belonged to him and Granger.

Draco nodded at Theo and admitted, "Yes. Yes, I'm in love with Hermione Granger. May the gods help me, but I was then, and I still am now."

Saying it out loud to someone else was liberating. Frightening as fuck, but liberating, nonetheless.

"Do you know where she is? Could you help me find her? Do you think she'd even want me after all of this time? Our child will be nearly of age now. What would she even want me for, if she's managed to raise them all on her own, hidden away for all of this time?"

Theo stood up, brushing glass carefully off of his trousers and onto the floor. He pulled his wand from his pocket and set about repairing the damage Draco had accidentally wrought in his anger. He began by healing the cuts in his hand.

All of the items that were broken began to fit themselves back together. The Firewisky bottle had exploded along with the rest of the glass. Unfortunately, the newly repaired bottle sat empty. The liquid inside was gone, having left behind just a puddle on the table and a wet spot on the carpet. Righting everything took only a moment. When it was done, Theo walked over to his desk and opened a drawer.

Draco was growing impatient. Why wasn't Theo answering him? "Don't you know where she is? If you don't, do you at least know where she went when she left here? I could follow her trail, track her down."

"Draco, I think you better sit back down first. There's more I need to tell you."


	10. Chapter 10

**2001**

"No!" Draco stomped away across the field, leaving behind a hyperventilating Hermione. He'd begun referring to her as Hermione in his head recently, but had not worked up the nerve to say it aloud yet.

"Malfoy, come back!" she gasped, wiping tears from her face. He wondered if she called him Draco inside her head.

"Absolutely, positively, no. No way. I am not going through with this!" he yelled back at her over his shoulder, his arms crossed and a glower set on his face.

Hermione started giggling again. "But you'll be so cute! I bet you're white, aren't you?"

"You promised you wouldn't laugh when I told you." And yes, he was indeed going to be white _if _he transformed. Draco didn't care that he was pouting like the spoiled brat she used to know.

Hermione stood up from where they'd been sitting in the shade to walk towards him.

"I should have just pretended it didn't work. Would you have believed me if I told I didn't see anything and probably wasn't meant to be an Animagus?" he asked.

She came around him in a circle and stopped right in front of him, still with a shite-eating grin on her face, and rolled her eyes. "Nope," she told him, popping the P for added emphasis. "You are far too powerful of a wizard, with a determination to get what you want, to fail at something you set your mind to."

Secretly, he was mollified, but he'd be damned if he'd let her know how much her praise meant to him. And lately, there was something else he wanted even more than to be an Animagus, but he had been too scared to go after it.

"Weeks of meditation, all down the drain!" he griped, covering his thoughts and confusion.

"You need to learn this," she pleaded, her voice sobering up, and her grin falling. "It could save your life one day."

Draco stepped closer, invading her personal space. Hermione didn't move back. He felt sure he was about to do the most foolhardy thing in his life, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. She had just told him she admired his determination to get what he wanted. And right now, he wanted nothing more in the world than to kiss Hermione Granger.

His eyes slid down to her lips. She licked them, already anticipating his next move. It was all the invitation he needed.

"Convince me you're sorry for laughing," he whispered.

She raised her chin, stubbornly making him close the gap. If it had been any other time, he would have chuckled at her. Instead, tentatively, he moved forward, scared she'd turn away at the last second. Reaching one hand up, he cupped her jaw, tracing a thumb along her cheekbone. He marveled at the number of freckles covering the bridge of her nose that he'd failed to notice until now.

"Malfoy-"

He wasn't sure if it was a plea or a warning, because he cut it off by tilting her face up to meet his, slanting his lips across hers. A small sigh, of relief he thought, escaped her before he deepened the kiss. The moan he elicited from her when he pulled her against him, wrapping one arm around her back while tangling the hand that had been on her cheek into her curls, sent a jolt down his spine. Greedily, he moved his lips against hers, until she opened her mouth to him and swiped her tongue out, asking him for more. He kissed her until she broke away, tilting her head back, breathless. He took that as an invitation to lay open-mouthed kisses and soft nips from his teeth along the column of her neck.

He wanted more, he wanted everything, but knew he needed to stop here, before they went too far. Panting, he rested his forehead against hers, not ready to break contact just yet.

That first kiss became the strongest memory Draco used when casting his Patronus.

* * *

"What happened to Ron?" Draco blurted out one afternoon, trying anything to take his mind off the confession she had just wrenched out of him.

He wasn't sure why Weasley chose then to pop into his head. Maybe it was because they had been discussing the death of Zacharias Smith, another former Quidditch player from their school years.

Draco could not picture Smith's face. He just conjured up a vague notion of a Hufflepuff in Quidditch gear. As a quiet half-blood, Smith had managed to stay off the radar for a few years. A raid on his family's house, prompted by an anonymous tip, turned up two Mudbloods living in a secret compartment in the attic. Draco had been a part of the team sent in, but in the confusion of the skirmish, he wasn't even sure who he'd been hitting with his spells. He just knew not to aim for anyone else in a silver mask.

When he surprised Hermione by unexpectedly arriving in his and her usual meeting spot, still in the same singed clothes he had worn to the Smiths' house, he'd ripped his metal mask off, hyperventilating. Breaking down, he had crumpled at her feet, head buried against her hip as she stroked his hair. His throat burned with the effort to hold back his sobs.

"I can't believe they thought they could hide people in their attic. How stupid could they be? I can't save them all. Why can't I figure out how to save more of them? Get them out of the country, for Merlin's sake! Maybe I could spend less on my clothes; siphon off more money my parents wouldn't notice is missing. I could sell some of my cufflinks and tie clips." He'd said more after that, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember what.

She had only managed to get him to stop his rambling by sinking next to him on the ground. Once there, she pulled him half in her lap, tight against her chest, rocking him gently and reassuring him he was doing more than her, more than anyone, until he trailed off. That's when he'd asked her about Ron.

She exhaled noisily and made a long, low sound in her throat. "I honestly thought you'd ask sooner how he and I ended up separated."

Draco pulled back, examining her face for signs of anger. He found sadness and guilt, but he did not see any evidence he had overly upset her with the question. Her eyes took on a faraway look as she recounted what had happened.

"After we saw Harry's body hit the ground in the Great Hall, we knew we didn't stand much of a chance. Ron ran towards his family, probably expecting me to follow him. I ran towards the exit, expecting him to follow me. I reached the doors to the Entrance Hall before turning around to find him too far away to go back. He started towards me, but Charlie grabbed his hand and dragged Ron away before he could try to reach me." Hermione paused to wipe tears off both cheeks and offer him a watery smile. "Sorry, the only other person I've talked about this with is George, so it's a bit tough."

"You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to."

"No, it's good to talk about it," she insisted.

She conjured two cups and filled them using _Aguamenti_, offering one to him. He took it and drank the cold water greedily, thankful she'd thought of it as he realized how parched he was. She did the same, draining hers before she continued.

"Anyway, I spent the first few days sticking close to Diagon Alley, gathering supplies from various shops and trying to leave clues for him on how to find me, thinking he'd be looking. He'd been lost from me once before, you see, but it didn't occur to me until almost a week in that maybe this time he wouldn't be able to find me the same way again. That's when I dared to go to Hogwarts, to see if the item Ron had had the last time, the one he used to find me, got left behind. I thought it was maybe dropped during the fighting."

She bit her lip, deliberating on something. Seeming to have made up her mind, Hermione held up her hand. "_Accio_ Deluminator."

A small silver contraption flew to her. She flipped it open and scrunched up her face in concentration. Sighing, she handed it to Draco. He twirled it around, inspecting the foreign object as she continued.

"Ron never told me what he said or did to get it to work. He just said that he could hear me talking and it led him back to me. I've never heard a thing." Hermione was now sobbing, making it difficult for Draco to understand everything she said.

He rearranged himself, reversing their previous positions so she sat in his lap. She did not seem to mind the dust and smoke saturating his robes as she buried her face against him. He set down the mysterious object and held her tightly, rubbing her back, trying to give her back the assurance she had just been giving to him.

"I don't know what it means. Maybe I'm just not doing it right? Maybe there was an incantation he forgot to tell me? Or maybe… maybe I don't love him enough?" Shudders wracked her body as she choked out one more thought, "Or maybe he's just... _dead_."

When her sobs had finally subsided, she quietly admitted, "There was one good thing to come out of me planting a few inconspicuous items around Diagon Alley, though. It led George to me."


	11. Chapter 11

**Present Day**

Theo produced a pack of Muggle fags from his desk and stuck one in his mouth. He offered the pack to Draco, but Draco waved him off. Draco watched Theo use his wand to light the cigarette and inhale deeply. Looking upwards, he breathed the smoke back out with an audible sigh. He rolled the fag back and forth between his fingers, taking another drag before he continued.

"Draco, I need to finish telling you about her time here first. She was a few months along already when she appeared in my stables. After making sure I couldn't do anything directly, or even indirectly, to cause her harm, she broke down. Right there, on the dusty wooden floor. She started crying, mumbling incoherent things between sobs. I wasn't sure what to do, so I just sat down next to her and waited. She finally calmed down enough for me to understand what she was telling me."

Theo sat down in the chair behind the desk and leaned forward, carelessly resting his elbows atop some papers he had scattered across it. Taking a moment to tap the gathering ashes off the end of his fag into a small glass dish, Theo then started up again.

"The first few weeks she was pregnant, she hadn't known. No woman ever really does, I guess. But, when you aren't actively trying to get pregnant, it's easier to miss, right?" Theo shrugged and took another drag. "She explained to me that she spent most of her time when you weren't able to be with her in her otter form. It kept her less likely to be noticed by your parents and any of their "guests" on the estate. Then, when she ran away, she said she realized she had no hope of keeping herself undetected in human form. She only chanced it for long stretches when she needed supplies. Other times, she would do it for short periods. She tried to time it, keeping track of the hours spent in one form or the other. But, she said, that got to be too much when she had so many other things on her mind, like just bloody staying alive and somewhat healthy."

Realization finally began to sink in on what Theo had been skirting around since the beginning. Draco had been far too focused on finding out what had become of Hermione after she disappeared to understand until now. It was good thing he was already sitting down, as he had begun to feel faint. He looked over to the trays of food and felt too nauseous to think about eating any.

"Animagi are so rare," Theo soldiered on with his tale, either not noticing Draco's distress or deciding to ignore it. "It isn't as if there have been a lot of studies of any sort done on them. She had looked through everything she had squirreled away in that little bag of hers. Amazing piece of magic that bag was, by the way. We read everything I could find in my library. We couldn't find any reference, not even a sentence, to the consequences for a baby if the mother spent time in her animal form. Over and over, she tried to justify to me that it must be alright in the first month or two, when the sprog is so small. She rattled off so many facts about pregnancy and fetuses, it was disconcerting. I couldn't, for the life of me, remember most of what she said. It was a lot of Muggle science."

Theo had finished his cigarette by this time and he stubbed it out. He glanced towards the pack still sitting out, obviously contemplating a second. Draco watched his friend steel himself to finish his tale. Theo looked into Draco's face. Draco did not want to hear what he knew was coming, but at the same time, he needed to hear it.

"She was scared and left you because, while there was the hope you could accept a half-blood child, she wasn't sure even she had the strength to accept a true magical abomination for a child. So, she ran. Until she realized she would still need help when the time came to have the baby. How she settled on me, besides the life-debt part, is a bit insane. She had a pretty good idea who the traitors were in our midst. I certainly wasn't one of them. But, for the next three months I acted like one. I kept her ensconced in this very room," Theo said, flourishing his hand around.

"I'd already set the precedent that Daphne didn't come in here, so keeping her out wasn't suspicious. I added to the wards, just in case. Together, Hermione and I were able to add a bathroom on. That panel over there slides aside." Theo stood up, moved over to the indicated panel and touched it, causing the wall to reveal a fairly nice bathroom behind it. "I only trusted one elf, Lucky, to bring supplies in and out. I did everything I could think of to help her be comfortable."

"Why didn't you come to me then, once you knew she was safe with you? You should have come to me!" Draco wasn't feeling any less ill, but it was easy to let his anger was mount.

"The vow wouldn't let me. I tried twice - I really did. The first time was about a week after she started living here. The magic of the vow felt my intent and somehow it determined I would be breaking it. It hurt so fucking much, I had a migraine for two days. The second time was after Pansy was killed. When I told Hermione she was dead, the witch laughed and said, "About fucking time. I never liked her and trusted her even less. Draco never told her about me, thank God." I thought that meant it could be safe to tell you - after all you were free now to be with Hermione, if you were willing to take a chance. Once again the magic stopped me. Hermione was nearly full term then. I think the vow was still protecting the baby. I tried to bring it up once to Hermione, but her hair started sparking and I was too scared of what her magic might do, in her emotional and physical state."

Theo got a far-off look on his face. He fiddled with his hands, turning his wedding ring round and round. "I helped bring your daughter into the world you know," he blurted out, looking both proud and scared by this part of his confession. "It was just me and Lucky in here. I had to pretend to be called away by the Lord. My own son was still a tiny thing and Daphne didn't want me to go. I assured her I would be fine. That was an easy promise to keep when I wasn't even leaving the house."

This was it. Now was when Theo was going to tell him that his daughter (He had a daughter! Was her hair blond and curly? Did she have his grey eyes, or Hermione's brown?) had come out with whiskers and webbed toes.

"She was beautiful, Draco. And perfect. For three days, I stayed in this room with Hermione, from the start, to the day after the birth. During that last day, Hermione fussed over her in the same way I had seen Daphne fuss over Bryan, but there was more to it. She kept running different diagnostic spells on the baby, trying to see if there was something wrong with her on the inside. She couldn't seem to let herself believe the baby was normal after all of her months of worrying that she wouldn't be. When I knew I had to leave, or risk being discovered in a lie, I told Hermione I would come back as soon as I could."

Theo had moved to a bookshelf and picked up a globe while talking. He brought it back over to his desk, setting it in the middle. He began a series of complicated wand movements and the globe popped open, revealing a secret compartment hidden inside. He took out a small box, carefully placing it next to the globe.

"When I next found time to come in here again, I found a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ sitting on the table. Hermione had been so bored being cooped up in here for months. Lucky tried to bring her new reading material as much as he could in addition to food and water. The newspaper had your engagement announcement in it." Theo laughed humourlessly. "That was quite the spread your mother commissioned for you and Astoria."

"Damn it! Damn my parents and damn Astoria!" Draco interrupted, pounding his fist impotently on the arm of his chair.

Theo raised a brow at him. "Hermione sat in that very chair, nursing your little girl. She calmly told me she was leaving England. Planned to try to make it to the States. She thought there were some Weasleys in Canada, she said, but she wasn't sure. The States seemed a better option to her, though. She told me it wouldn't be safe to Apparate with a baby. Wanted to know if I had any way to help her get to that underground tunnel Muggles use to drive their automobiles to France. I reminded her that it was heavily watched by our side. As were any ships going in and out of the country. Airplanes were completely out of the question, too."

Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath. At least she hadn't gone to Canada. He leaned back in his chair, willing his tense muscles to relax.

"She told me to figure something out, she was holding me to my vow. I finally came up with a plan. I scheduled a vacation to Spain with Daphne and Bryan. When the time came, it was Hermione and your baby I took to Spain. Hermione used Polyjuice, and all little babies look the same, as long as you don't open their nappy. Once again, I found myself lying to the real Daphne about being called away. Hermione and I took a ship. Once we were onboard, my "wife" claimed sea sickness, staying in our cabin the entire journey. The last I saw of them was in a hotel in Bilbao."

Theo toyed with the box on his desk, hesitating, before looking at Draco. "I'm pretty sure they were still out there, somewhere, all this time. At least one of them, even though they hid themselves well. Until today, the vow stopped me from ever talking about them."

Draco was tired, suddenly so tired. He wanted to know what had changed, but was afraid to ask. And even if he did ask, how much could Theo know? His emotions had been on the worst broom ride of his life and he wasn't sure he could stand any more twists and turns.

"What about all of the searching I've done?" Draco decided on a safer line of questioning. "Couldn't you have helped me in even the littlest way?"

"Who do you think cleaned up after you when you weren't as stealthy as you thought in trying to get answers? I watched out for you all these years the best I could. You're still alive - count that as a blessing," Theo responded harshly. "Now pay attention, this is the part where I once again help you, only this time you're aware of it."

He watched mutely as Theo opened the tiny box before him. There was something gold inside.

"Holy mother of Merlin," Draco whispered reverently. Feeling suddenly reinvigorated, he jumped up for a closer look. "Is that what I think it is?"

He stood over the desk, opposite from Theo, staring down into the box. Inside of it was the most lovely thing he had ever seen. A time turner. Theo didn't look up from it as he spoke.

"Last night, I finished ten years worth of work. I don't know how long this time turner has been in my family. I stumbled upon it after my father's death, when wards he had set to hide it fell apart. At first, I had no intention to use it. At least not until I had my daughter stolen from me. I didn't lose Daphne and my son that day, but I may as well have. I had planned to go back, to before Daphne was attacked and change time so that she and Bryan could have the life I dreamed of for them. To see my daughter live. Then, I saw you tonight, and the vow I made to Hermione morphed. It practically forced me to talk to you. I think we're meant to go back together, mate. Back further than I had originally planned."

"What's my daughter's name?" Knowing this suddenly seemed very important to Draco.

"Leona," Theo snickered.

Draco stared at his friend, wondering if this was an awful attempt at a joke.

When he realized Theo was serious, he said, "That will just be one more thing for us to change, won't it?"


	12. Chapter 12

**Early ****2002**

The two of them ran circles around George's legs when he appeared, Draco chasing Hermione until she grew weary of his little teeth snapping at her tail. She turned on him and easily tackled his smaller frame.

"Not that I don't enjoy seeing Hermione put you in your place, Ferret, but I did come here for a reason," George reminded the two of them.

Draco and Hermione popped back into their human forms. George unabashedly looked them both up and down as they Accio'd their clothes, his eyes lingering for an equal amount of time on both.

Revels had long since stolen all of Draco's shame. He wondered if George had ever had any to begin with.

"Like what you see?" he drawled, pulling on his pants.

"You're a bit pasty for my tastes," George grinned, turning to give Hermione a flirty wink. Draco raised a brow, but decided to let George's non-denial slide.

"Can we get down to business boys?" Hermione huffed.

"I've had contact again with Minerva. She thinks her Animagus form is too recognizable for us to stick her in some unsuspecting Muggle's cat carrier and put her on an airplane. She'd rather chance Pansy's Portkey to Antigua," George reported on their latest project.

"Fine, let's do that then," Hermione agreed. Draco nodded.

* * *

A week later, Pansy had secured the illicit item for them. She had a black market contact in Istanbul who created them on the sly. It was the same guy who gave her a great deal on formally cursed jewels.

Only Draco had been present when the Portkey whisked his old professor away. She had looked haggard, but determined. Draco had stood there, in the few scant minutes in-between both of their arrivals and the activation time for the Portkey, not knowing quite what to say to someone he'd never gotten on with while at school.

Finally, she'd broken the silence. "I'm proud of you, Mister Malfoy. Prouder than you can imagine."

She'd looked at him, eyes bright and her lips thinned into a tight smile, seeming to want to impart some final wisdom to him. Instead, she'd disappeared in a swirl, safe now in another country.

Hermione and Draco celebrated their success with languid lovemaking in a tent she kept in a handy little beaded bag. Draco had discovered she kept numerous things, probably more than he could count, in that little bag.

She moaned, "Draco," repeatedly, with wild abandon, as she climaxed. He called her Hermione for the first time when he followed her over the edge.

* * *

He came to Hermione after another row with Pansy regarding the lack of any wedding planning. He had felt obligated to fuck Pansy to get her to calm down and believe he still loved her. It had been the worst shag of his life, and that was saying a lot; he'd had some horrible shags over the years. It was a good thing he was usually drunk, high on potions, or both for most revels - it helped make the events blurrier and easier to forget.

At same point in time, he had switched from feeling guilty about cheating on Pansy, to feeling guilty about cheating on Hermione. He wanted to confess everything to Hermione, apologize to her, beg her forgiveness. Instead he had shagged her rotten, going as long as he could hold off his orgasm, pouring all of his feelings into making her feel good.

He knew it was wrong, that this was the worst way to make his feelings known, but when they laid on her cot, still panting from the exertion, he had whispered into her hair, "I love you, Hermione."

* * *

Draco developed an entirely new bad habit. He would use Legilimency to plant seemingly innocuous little images in Hermione's head. She always knew he was there, he came up against her mental walls slowly and waited patiently for her to let him in. He never delved too deep, just brushing the surface before leaving behind a few seconds worth of thoughts.

The majority of what he wanted her to see were risqué scenes he imagined them acting out. Sometimes she'd indulge him and try out something new he'd silently proposed. Like the utterly cliché school girl fantasy. Other times, she'd end up blushing and stammering out a "No!"

He had other fantasies he wanted to lose himself in too. He showed her all of his "what ifs". What if he had defied his parents as a teen and become friends with the most intriguing girl he knew? What if he had accepted Dumbledore's offer of assistance? What if he had managed to stop his Aunt Bellatrix from torturing Hermione on the floor of the house that was always looming behind them? What if…

Those other fantasies proved the most insidious. He could see the way she reacted to them. She wanted them so badly, too. He didn't know how to make them happen in the real world, but here, in the cocoon they built around themselves, they could indulge. He showed Hermione his bedroom inside the manor and let her see herself sleeping safely in his bed. Another time, they strolled Diagon Alley, hand-in-hand, pausing to look in the windows of shops long since abandoned or burnt to the ground. In their make-believe world, she was his girlfriend and when she begged him for new books, he bought her all the ones she wanted. In return, he made her get giant scoops of ice cream at Fortescue's afterwards with him. Over time, he showed her the interiors of his family's various overseas estates, and he created date after date for her, taking her to places both familiar and others she had never been.

"It isn't good to dwell upon fantasies," she tried to remind him nearly every time, but then she'd give in and let him create just one more for her.

* * *

"I have to go. My Portkey to Belgium leaves in 20 minutes," he insisted, as she tried to straddle him once more. Not that he didn't love her like this, demanding and taking control.

She had been insatiable the last three times they had found time alone together.

She'd seemed a bit off lately. Asking him strange questions out of the blue. He'd brought down books an Animagi from his library for her, even though he'd let her borrow the same ones before. She'd snapped at him for the smallest thing just yesterday.

Now she was crying for no apparent reason.

"It's just for a handful of days. I'll be back before you know it," he told her, finally sneaking out of her grasp. "I love you."

"I love you too, Draco. Don't you ever doubt that. Don't you ever forget it," she told him earnestly, jumping up to wrap her arms around his waist.

"Okay, okay. Just let me put my clothes on, will you?" he teased her.

"I wish…" she started to say.

"What? What do you wish?"

"I wish things could be different, Draco."

"Me too." He was now buttoning up his shirt, getting ready to grab his robes and leave.

"Then run away with me. We could make it somewhere safe together, I know it!" She urged frantically, gripping his arm. "I love you, Draco. Isn't that enough?"

"I love you too, Hermione. I promise you are enough for me. Let's talk about it when I get back," he said soothingly, disentangling her hand.

She grabbed his face and kissed him fiercely. "I love you," she panted when they broke apart.

"I know," he laughed at her absurdity. "We'll be back together before you know it."

Those were his last words to Hermione Granger. Why hadn't he told her that he loved her too, just one more time?


End file.
